


Quiver

by amorremanet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Angst Sam Winchester, Canonical Character Death, Community: 52_challenge, Death References, Demon Blood Addiction, F/M, Ficlet, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, Prose Poem, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Memes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/pseuds/amorremanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sam stares down at his trembling hands with no idea why they wobble like that. Why would they do that? He's not craving—he doesn't itch for blood—so why would they tremble so fiercely? Why won't they stop?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suhair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suhair/gifts).



> Prompts used are: "mourn me" for a tumblr fic meme, "addict" for 52_challenge, and "hush" for 100 things (random prompts).

Sam doesn't tell Dean about it. That, in and of itself, doesn't make this issue particularly different from all the other things that they don't talk about—all the things like Sam's cravings and Dean's relationship with alcohol, like the way Dean still misses Mom and how Sam's never really reconciled with losing Dad—but Sam has even more reason not to tell Dean that he misses Ruby. Thinking about her makes his cheeks flush and something sour in his stomach, to the point that he just can't eat, some nights. Which Dean notices, but mostly lets alone. They're both stressed out with the looming Apocalypse, so what if Sam skips a few salads.

He misses the chill of her tiny body pressed flush up against his. He misses the way she whispered his name, or else snapped it, or else uttered it like some holy litany, snaking her hand through his hair and saying that one syllable as though her heartbeat depended on it, _Sam… Sam… Sam… Sam_. His heart twists around the pit of his chest every time that he sees blood—it's unavoidable, in their line of work and seeing it so often doesn't make enduring the ache any easier. Sam still wants to put his mouth on someone's wrist, or thigh, or chest—all the places where she used to cut—and drink them down, but no one would be cold like she was. No one would scratch their nails up his shoulders like she did.

Dean doesn't want to talk about it, and Sam understands why: he picked a demon over his own brother; how could he delude himself into thinking Ruby wasn't evil; how could he love drinking demon blood, and how could he suck down so much poison without it making him sick, and how could he do this to Dean; how could Sam, how could Sam, how could he. Something's just broken in him that way, Sam guesses—something sick inside of him is grim and twisted up into knots upon Gordian knots—something inside of him yawns, a dragon's mouth and full of teeth, an empty hole that claws at his insides, some gaping, bottomless pit that he didn't know he had until Ruby turned him on to drinking blood.

And Ruby understood that in ways that Dean just doesn't, no matter how many souls he carved up in Hell and no matter how many times they sit on the Impala's hood and talk about their feelings. Ruby understood lacking, Ruby understood how Sam wants without knowing what he wants, Ruby understood him, with her icicle fingers twined up in Sam's hair and her frozen lips pressed against his cheek, his mouth, his forehead—and out of nowhere, in the glare of sunlight and listening to Judas Priest while Dean drives them toward another case, Sam stares down at his trembling hands with no idea why they wobble like that. Why would they do that? He's not craving—he doesn't itch for blood—so why would they tremble so fiercely? Why won't they stop?

He hears Rob Halford screaming "Diamonds And Rust"— _don't want no more diamonds, diamonds and rust_ —and the words don't make sense. They echo around Sam's head and they connect, a little bit, but he doesn't really know all of what they mean. The only thing he knows is that his chest feels empty and his hands are shaking and Dean doesn't notice anything—but Ruby would have. Somehow or other, Ruby would have made it better.


End file.
